


so fresh

by cctime



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Soft Im Jaebum | JB, also my love letter to my old job... i miss youuu, exclusively based off the time i spent working at a greenhouse, greenhouse au, niche content for ME, soft jaeb who loves his friends :)), this is jjp but also it's my love letter to youngjae, uhm baby's first fic pls b gentle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cctime/pseuds/cctime
Summary: Seeing Jinyoung again feels remarkably awful—like all those gushy, confusing feelings that teenage Jaebeom harbored towards him for years have given way to even more confusing adult feelings. Jaebeom distinctly feels like he’s suddenly been plopped back into his junior year Literature class, forced to analyze a shitty poem about a wheelbarrow when all he can think about is how pink Jinyoung’s ears get when he laughs.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae & Im Jaebum | JB, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 66





	1. roots

“Right, and I understand that, but we’re-... No, I get that we need the help. Right. Right. Yup, uh-huh. Okay, bye, sir,” Jaebeom takes a single deep breath before he slams the phone back into its cradle with a _clang_. It might screw up the line and leave it partially muted like it was for a week the last time his boss called, but it’s better than throwing it on the floor, or at the wall, or into JYP’s awful bastard face. God, he’s seething. You'd think after four years of work and a year of personal management, he might have a little say in hiring at the greenhouse, but JYP has apparently made it his life’s mission to be a massive bitch.

“What's wrong?” asks Yugyeom, not caring one bit about what’s wrong as he focuses on masticating his third popsicle stick in an hour.

“JYP is a bitch,” Jaebeom groans, post nasal drip alters his voice into a whiney drawl. He lays his full body weight on the register and rolls back and forth like an underpaid little slug until he accidentally opens the cash drawer into his abdomen with a grunt.

“He just took on two new hires and didn't tell me and they're going to be here tomorrow, on our busiest fucking day, and I think I’m dying of allergies. Also I have a splinter.”

Yugyeom flicks his popsicle stick, thoroughly destroyed, towards the trashcan and predictably misses. “What a hard life,” he says, all false sympathy, as he delivers a painful smack to Jaebeom’s back, jolting him back into the register with a muffled _ding_. “Well, hope you have fun.”

“Are you not at all worried about this?” Jaebeom asks and raises his head to sniff violently.

“Jaebeom hyung,” Yugyeom looks him in the eye and hands him a dusty tissue from the box, a serene expression overtaking his face, “I'm off tomorrow. This place does not exist to me.” Jaebeom gives him a flat look before swinging at him half-heartedly as he scampers to the back room to punch out for the day, snickering like a little mustard-haired witch. He’s still technically on for another half hour, but Jaebeom has enough problems—Yugyeom’s poor attendance is clearly a battle for another day.

His newest problem is that tomorrow is Mother’s Day, which means the store is going to be packed with customers desperate to find some last minute flowers for mom. This would normally not be a huge deal—Jaebeom is going to have a massive headache by the end of the day and the near unshakable urge to yell at every customer that asks for “a floral arrangement, anything is fine,” but that’s not entirely uncommon. No, the real issue is that there’s no way Jaebeom can manage the front counter and monitor the greenhouses while also training two news employees. It’s just not going to happen, especially since he only has Youngjae and Jackson on for tomorrow.

Quietly mourning in preparation for the shitshow that tomorrow will bring, Jaebeom goes to blow his nose. He doubts it’ll help, but his snot does come away an exciting shade of brown because of the dirt in his nose (another perk of working at a greenhouse!). Sometimes he wonders if it’s all worth it: the job (dirty), the paycheck (modest), the benefits (nonexistent). But then he remembers his life before he had a reliable schedule, and, well. He’ll stick with the job.

Plus, he can’t discount the fact that Nora, his beautiful baby, is here with him. She winds her lazy way around his ankles in figure eights, clearly satisfied after eating the pile of dead flies Jaebeom left for her on the counter. “Did you like your snack, Princess?” he coos at her, accidentally dislodging more snot. God, what he wouldn’t give for a claritin or a brick to the face—whichever comes faster. 

Instead of scrounging through their OSHA violation of a first aid kit for antihistamines that are sure to be gone, Jaebeom pulls Nora up from the floor into his arms to scratch her soft little head and pretend like today hasn’t been the pits.

He’s pressing a finger to her pink nose when the bell above the door, long missing its ringer, clangs pathetically against the frame.

“Hi Jaebeom,” Mark greets as he stomps his work boots off on the mat (a useless endeavor). “Wow, you look like shit,” he smiles, looking like a fucking wood nymph even after three landscaping jobs, because of course he does. Jaebeom flashes his most handsome grin at Mark, just to show him that he’s capable of it. With the way things have been going today, though, he’s sure he probably looks more like a scarlet fever victim.

“Thanks, hyung, I’m trying out a new look.”

“Oh yeah? I really like it, the hay fever totally brings out your eyes” and the worst thing about Mark is that, besides being constantly beautiful, he’s also usually right. 

Jaebeom quickly drops the act. “What do you want, hyung? I thought you had another stop today.”

“Oh, I do, but Jack is handling it,” he responds quickly, a dreamy quality to his voice which, _ew_. “I was actually gonna ask for an advance? It’s our anniversary soon, and I want to do something nice for him,” his voice takes on the babyish tone it does whenever he wants something.

Jaebeom pretends to mull over it for a second, drawing it out just to make Mark sweat, which doesn’t work at all because Mark knows it’s not like he was ever actually going to say no. 

He really does try to be strict—he is their boss, technically—but Jaebeom’s been cursed with mushy insides. It’s why he always gives Mark and Jackson pay advances when their anniversaries (plural—they celebrate everything) come up, why he lets Youngjae have the whole week off every time Brian comes to visit, and why he’s had “animal crossing: new horizons DROP” written in the scheduling calendar under Yugyeom’s time off request for weeks now. Thankfully he’s grown enough to admit he’s soft, sometimes.

He opens the register and pay log to pull out Mark’s next paycheck in cash while Mark thanks him sweetly. It’s worth it, he thinks, to see his friends happy. 

“Are you on tomorrow?” he asks Mark conversationally, even though he already knows the answer. Mark hums noncommittally in return and slides his paycheck into his wallet.

“I can be?” and Jaebeom nearly cries right then and there.

“Yes, please,” his begs, whiney like he is around his older friends. “We have new hires tomorrow, on fucking Mother’s Day, because JYP is an ugly motherfucker,” and that gets Mark to smile. Their mutual hatred of the man is one of the first things they bonded over. “And he brought them on, _without asking me,_ by the way. And I just-” Jaebeom’s quickly losing steam. “I could really use your help.”

Mark gives him an indulgent smile that says _I may act like a literal toddler but I am still older than you and therefore infinitely more wise_. “Okay, as long as I don't have to work nursery.”

“Yeah, fine,” Jaebeom accepts Mark’s bargain without hesitation. “Thank you hyung. I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yup, see ya,” and he’s gone, leaving Jaebeom alone to panic over the new hires yet again. The worst part is he doesn’t even know their names. He may be a little disconnected from the internet world, but Jaebeom has the common sense to at least look potential employees up on Facebook. JYP had fleetingly mentioned one of them being from the area but hadn’t thought to offer any other information besides that. 

Jaebeom briefly entertains the thought of his new employee being one of his old high school friends coming back for the summer, but Jaebeom was never much of a socialite and that list is pretty small. Last he heard, Hyunwoo was happily married in Seoul. He sees Sungjin at least once a week when Youngjae drags them both to the bar, so he’d know if it was him, and, well. He's sure his other friend wouldn’t come back if he was being paid. He always hated being dirty, anyway.

Shaking his head, Jaebeom dispels any thoughts of that particularly dangerous memory lane and opens the register to count out for the night instead. 

Jaebeom’s been working at the greenhouse for four years now, ever since his sophomore year of college when student loans became an actual problem. It’s been his life for all those years; college was fun, and he sometimes misses the freedom he felt there, but at some point it just became a means to an end. A way to make his parents proud. A way to finish his bachelor’s so he could work here. 

It’s hard not to feel stagnant, sometimes.

He runs through the final closing tasks—unplugging the displays, turning off the main lights, feeding the cats their dinner—before shooting Yugyeom a quick text about picking up a shift tomorrow, grabbing his wallet and keys from the office, and locking the front door. 

.

The drive to his parents’ house is pleasant—the roads are close to empty and his truck rumbles pleasantly while the summer evening blows in through the open windows. Normally he’d change clothes before heading over for their weekly dinner, but he’s tired and hungry and banking on the fact that his mom will have some claritin.

He takes the steps up to the house two at a time and opens the door without knocking; he may not live here anymore, but it’s still his house, down to the smell—like spiced candles and his mother’s favorite laundry detergent. It's a comfort, similar to the smile he gets from his mother as he steps past the entryway and into the living room. In the end, she does have some claritin, as well as some tweezers for the splinter Jaebeom forgot about. She exchanges both for a kiss on the cheek and a promise to help plate dinner. 

After a hearty shoulder pat from his dad, Jaebeom goes to the bathroom in search of his promised medicine. In the studio lights above the sink, he can see the dirt smeared on his forehead and the distinct paleness that only comes from seasonal allergies. He looks stressed and a little worse for wear, but he’s happy. He's fulfilled in all the ways he can be. 

More than anything, Jaebeom will always be loyal to his parents for supporting him even as he wandered aimlessly from high school to college, even though they were frustrated with his lack of direction. It had chafed on him for a long time, the care, but he knows better now. He has a lot to thank them for.

Once he’s finished pulling out his splinter and reflecting on his gratefulness, he goes to help his mom in the kitchen, fluffing the rice in the pot while she watches the various pans on the stove. They accidentally bump hips a couple times and chuckle. Everything about the scene is familiar to him, but Jaebeom can tell his mom has something to say because she keeps sighing like she can’t possibly hold the secret in so she’s letting it out in parts. Jaebeom knows—he does the same thing.

“Mom,” he starts, leaning down to catch her eye. He's been taller than her for years. “Are you okay? It seems like you want to say something? You can tell me, you know.”

She stops stirring a bubbling pot for a second to look properly at Jaebeom, running a hand up and down his forearm, “I know I can baby, we can talk later,” she says, masterfully avoiding his first questions. Her statement sets Jaebeom's stress levels skyrocketing, but before he can respond, she’s removing the pot from the heat and making her way to the dining table. 

Despite his newfound nerves, he manages to plate up dinner and take it to the table where his parents are already seated. together, they talk meaningless things—town gossip, work drama, the weather—and Jaebeom tells them about his shit boss in order to keep himself from asking if his grandpa died or something, what the _hell,_ mom. “I’m sorry honey, that sounds difficult,” she frowns, upset on his behalf, which feels nice even if he’s upset at her for teasing him like this.

Dinner winds down until it’s just the three of them sitting around the table, sipping on sun tea while Jaebeom's brain buzzes in his ear unhelpfully about failing health and family deaths. He’s saved when his mother clears her throat. “So,” she starts, and this must be where she says what was so obviously bothering her earlier, thank god, “I heard from Jinyoung’s mother that he’s going to be back in town for a while.” This is significantly less of a _thank god_. She eyes Jaebeom with concern, but he’s too busy trying to scoop his jaw off the table to respond.

One of the many downsides of living in a relatively small town is that everybody really does know everybody. Jaebeom knows for a fact that Jinyoung's mom and his are still best friends, even if their sons couldn’t maintain that closeness. He also knows that, at least on his side of things, his mother has done her best to keep any news of the Park family from reaching him. Maybe this is just the universe evening the score for all the years that he’s spent with Jinyoung at the back of his mind instead of in his life, though he can’t imagine angsting over your best friend for four years is in any way “having it too good for too long.”

A sound, something like a half-choked, garbled laugh, comes from Jaebeom’s open mouth. His parents continue to look concerned, but how could he possibly tell them that this is literally the worst news he’s received all week. “That’s- Good for him, I guess,” is what he comes up with, but it just sounds like _mom, dad, I’ve done some searching and I think it’s time I go off the grid._ perfect.

His mother tilts her head towards him like she’s gossiping, a position that normally has Jaebeom leaning towards her in anticipation, but it’s ruined by the worry in her eyes “I just thought you might want to know. It could be nice, yeah? To connect with an old friend?” and, bless her soul, she’s really trying to help.

Jaebeom wheezes out a humourless laugh. “I don’t think that would go over too well, Mom.” _I'm about to connect my head with a rock_ is what he doesn’t say, but he’s sure that after years of listening to him complain and cry about Jinyoung, his mother and father already know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Alright, honey,” she concedes. “Whatever you want.”

“You get to decide when and if you see him again, Jaebeom,” his father pipes up, silent for most of the conversation but supportive nonetheless, in much the same way he has been for Jaebeom’s whole life. Offering his parents a watery smile, Jaebeom wonders how everything could have gone downhill so quickly. First the new hires, and now Park Jinyoung, back in town like an unwanted ghost to haunt every one of Jaebeom's steps. It feels pretty awful. 

It continues to feel awful as Jaebeom packs up the leftovers to take home at his mom’s request, and as he kisses them goodbye, and as he loads into his truck to drive home. Every minute that passes on his commute is just another minute to think about Jinyoung, about what he lost when Jinyoung left, about what he must’ve done to ruin something so good. _Life is a fucking nightmare_ his brain jingles helpfully.

He runs through every conversation the two of them had the way he has for years, searching for whatever he said to drive Jinyoung away so quickly and so thoroughly. Pulling up in front of his apartment building, he wonders if it was all him. Because it must have been him, right? It must have been him and his stupid mouth and stupid _feelings._

His head connects to the steering wheel with a dull thunk. Sometimes it feels like he was born with his heart aching like this.

Leaning his now bruised head back, he takes a breath and tries to think rationally about this. Ultimately, he doesn’t _have_ to see Jinyoung, even if he wants the closure so bad that he can almost taste it. In the end, he doubts it would even be worth it. Instead, Jaebeom thinks he can probably just avoid him until he leaves in the fall, just like he’s managed to avoid everything else about Jinyoung for years now.

When he finally makes it inside, puts the leftovers away, and showers, sleep is pulling at the edges of his brain so forcefully he can barely walk to his bed. He's out cold by the time his head hits the pillow, and he doesn’t dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking into work the next day feels like walking directly into the devil’s anus, a surefire sign that it’s going to be shit. It’s usually pretty hard to be positive when your skin is melting. There’s a thin layer of moisture on every surface from the humidity, and the heat warps the horizon in dizzying waves. Jaebeom rushes through opening in the sweltering heat, knowing that unlike most days, they’ll definitely have customers before ten. 

He’s just finished cleaning a sad-looking nerve plant when he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his torso. Letting out a squeak that he would later deny, Jaebeom scrabbles at the hands on his stomach, but he quickly stops struggling when he hears the telltale tones of Youngjae’s jaw-cracking laughter behind him. Why are all his friends terrible?

“Choi Youngjae, I’m going to beat your ass,” he warns as soon as his feet are returned to the ground.

“Good morning to you too, hyung!” Youngjae greets him, entirely unbothered by Jaebeom’s (admittedly empty) threats. Jaebeom cuffs him on the ear gently, but he only gets a chuckle in response. It’s hardly his fault, though; it’s extraordinarily hard to stay mad at Youngjae, even when he hops up onto the counter where Jaebeom was working and gets a smack to the knee for his trouble. “What’s on the schedule for today, boss?” it’s an affectionate term, coming from him.

Jaebeom grabs the red clipboard from next to Nora’s bed, helpfully labeled _Goings On_ in gaudy purple calligraphy, courtesy of Yugyeom’s idle hands. It looks ridiculous, but, like most aspects of Yugyeom’s personality, it manages some level of endearment. He flips to today’s sheet of notebook paper, momentarily critiquing his bare minimum system of organization. Honestly, his only reason for not moving to more digital methods is a healthy fear of mixing his employees and technology. They already make a mess with markers and sticky notes, he can’t imagine the havoc they’d wreak in an excel doc.

“It looks like I have you up front with Jackson,” an incredibly calculated move on his part; the only days he can schedule Jackson and Youngjae together like this are when it’s going to be too busy for their usual banter. If left to their own devices for too long, Jaebeom fears they might get bored and tip all the mop water over the concrete floor to make a slip n’ slide (and yes, he is speaking from experience).

Youngjae looks quizzical, “Isn’t Jackson on landscaping?” he reaches over to grab the black scheduling calendar, flipping to May.

“Normally, yeah,” Jaebeom sighs, “but it’s Mother’s Day, so I have both him and Mark coming in to help today.” Youngjae hums in understanding while Jaebeom scrawls a quick list of chores around the store for Youngjae. They sit in relative silence for a bit before Youngjae clears his throat tentatively.

“I, uhm,” he starts, “I saw Jinyoung hyung yesterday, at the grocery store,” and he sounds so timid, so unlike the way Youngjae usually speaks to Jaebeom--bold and bright and lovable, always the annoying younger brother. Jaebeom, relatively peaceful morning mood succinctly shattered, fights back the urge to snap at Youngjae and instead settles for a deep sigh. 

Amazingly enough, he’d managed to keep Jinyoung at the far edges of his mind instead of allowing him to crawl front and center like he so desperately wants, and he understands that Youngjae is, ultimately, just trying to protect him from the shock of potentially seeing Jinyoung in public. Still, any and all reminders of Jinyoung’s newfound presence leave him feeling winded. He’d rather go without.

“I heard,” he settles for, sounding dull even to his ears, and hopes Youngjae knows him well enough to drop it. Thankfully, Youngjae doesn't draw the conversation out, instead opting to pick at his fingernails in silence, looking chastised while he waits for his chore list. Jaebeom hastily writes _Thank you :)_ at the bottom of the list to let Youngjae know he’s not actually mad about his earlier comment before handing him the list with a pat to his thigh. 

Youngjae smiles apologetically at him, and, not for the first time, Jaebeom is incredibly grateful that even after the mess of his life post-Jinyoung, he still has Youngjae as a friend. He snags the black calendar from him and tucks it back under the counter, turning to Youngjae once he’s done. “So, I actually won’t be up with you today,” Youngjae’s eyes go wide with nerves, “You’ll be fine,” Jaebeom reassures him quickly, “You’ll have Jacks and he can answer any questions you have, but you can always call me if you really need it,” Jaebeom waves his phone next to his face.

“I thought you said it was going to be busy today?” Youngjae asks.

Jaebeom looks a bit tired, “Well, yeah, it will be. But we actually have some new hires coming in today in about,” he checks his phone, “half an hour, so all I’m really doing today is training.”

Youngjae’s eyes light up at the prospect of new coworkers because he’s nice enough that those types of things excite him. He leans forward in anticipation, “Anyone we know?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Youngjae tilts his head like a puppy in silent question. “JYP didn’t deign to tell me their names,” Jaebeom explains haughtily.

Youngjae chuckles a bit at his tone and then frowns, “That’s… odd,” but his face quickly clears, “I hope they’re nice! And I hope they’re easier to train than I was,” he trails off, a little bashful.

Jaebeom snorts, “You were fine, Youngjae-ah. It’s not a big deal, I’m sure it’ll be okay. We’re just going to be busy.” And Jaebeom’s right; Youngjae still slips up occasionally and he still can’t answer most questions on the phone, opting instead to run it to Jaebeom, but it’s worth it to have his friend close. Youngjae nods once at Jaebeom and slips off the counter, heading off toward the breakroom to fill his water bottle and douse himself in bug spray.

Jaebeom braces his hands against the wooden countertop as soon as youngjae is out of sight, hanging his head low between his shoulders for a second. Against his wishes, his mind goes back to their earlier conversation. He’s been grappling with Jinyoung’s sudden reappearance since his mother told him last night. The worst bit is that he really thought he’d be over it by now, but it always seems to come up, one way or another. It always makes Jaebeom, 23 years old now, feel like a highschooler again. He hates it. 

It’s going to be fine this time though, because Jaebeom has a job and a support system and no reason to see Park Jinyoung before he leaves at the end of the summer. It’s going to be fine.

.

Yugyeom walks in at five to noon, endlessly dedicated to his schedule of showing up early and leaving even earlier. Jaebeom takes pity on him though; he picked up this shift on a whim and looks pretty dead, dark circles and pale lips giving away his state. Jaebeom passes him a granola bar from his stash next to the chalk markers and pats him once on the back as he heads off to punch in.

When he returns, he has Youngjae in tow, freshly hydrated and smelling of DEET. Youngjae keeps glancing worriedly at Yugyeom as he takes in his glassy eyes, and Jaebeom snaps once to get their attention. He also definitely wakes Yugyeom up from sleep standing. “Okay, I already told Youngjae what his job was for today. Gyeom, you look pretty rough,” Yugyeom grumbles at this, “so I think I’ll just have you water in one and two,” This, at least, elicits a happy hum in Yugyeom. Watering duty gives him more time to listen to early 2000’s girl group music and not talk to customers. “I’ll be doing training, so if you could kind of keep things moving while I’m busy?” both boys nod at him. “Thanks. Alright, Jackson and Mark will be coming in soon. They know where their lists are, so I’m going to go move the soil pallets,” two more nods and he’s off to the garage. 

He takes a second to tie his hair into a messy half updo, already sweating from the abrasive heat. He hates moving the pallets, honestly, although it’s less about the pallets and more about the skid steer. It’s got a shit turning radius and although he’s gotten pretty good at driving it, he was never actually trained, so he’s constantly worried about fucking up. Workplace endangerment via neglect is only one of a long list of JYP’s infinite favors, though. 

Moving the pallets takes time, but it’s nice to have some room to think. Although training is always a hassle and will definitely take some time out of his day, he’s not super worried about it; if worst comes to worst he can just stick the newbies in the nursery with some hoses and hope for the best. They can always come get him if they need help.

The final pallet slots neatly against the back wall of the garage and Jaebeom slides out of the skid steer’s duct taped foam seat, immediately grabbing a broom to manage all the excess dirt that’s fallen from the ripped bags. Sweep, move, and repeat. Maybe he’ll change Yugyeom’s job title to Sweeper and never worry about it again. How nice would that be?

He gives up sweeping pretty quickly; no point in managing dirt that’s going to resettle on the concrete in three minutes. There’s plenty of floor space for the incoming peat moss pallets they have coming in anyway, so Jaebeom casts one final look over the space before closing the door to the garage with a squeal and heading back up front. 

He passes Yugyeom on his way over, watches in wonder as Yugyeom’s head lolls dangerously to the side before snapping up when he accidentally waters one of his sneakers. Jaebeom chuckles and gets a harsh, sleepy scowl for his trouble. Jaebeom walks the rest of the way to the front counter with a new spring in his step at Yugyeom’s misfortune (he’s feeling considerate today, though. If Yugyeom plays his cards right, Jaebeom might even let him go take a nap in the breakroom later).

Youngjae is still manning the counter, talking gently with an elderly woman as she holds up a clipping from her pothos. Youngjae knows how to handle houseplant care, though, so Jaebeom doesn’t intervene. His chest does flare his pride a little bit when Youngjae immediately takes her over to the fungus care section because _Jaebeom_ taught him that.

In his heart, Jaebeom knows that Youngjae (and Yugyeom, and Mark, and all the other people he’s let into his little world) are probably destined for greater things than working at a small-town greenhouse. Youngjae’s already got music internships lining up the block (which he deserves) and Jaebeom is just waiting for the day when he finally stops stalling and accepts one. 

Knowing that these people will eventually leave tends to strike a chord deep in Jabeeom’s chest, but he’s learned (and is still learning, every day) how to be happy with what he has now. He can appreciate their company and their closeness for what it is. Much like the dirt, he figures there’s no point in trying to fix something that is ultimately going to do what it wants. Besides, he doesn’t mind being alone. Usually.

He huffs a bit at his own rambling thoughts, trying to quiet the voice in his head that screams _start bullet journaling_ and _make an extreme life change that you’ll definitely regret._ Last time he listened to that voice, he ended up with brassy hair the consistency of straw and teasing that lasted for weeks. Point is, the voice is neither productive nor helpful, two things that Jaebeom needs to be at work. 

The pothos clipping on the counter, after a quick glance, most certainly has a fungus problem. _Overwatering_ , Jaebeom thinks as he pinches the wilting leaf between his thumb and forefinger, _overcare. Hovering because she loves it too much._ He’s edging into some poetic waters, though, and although he loves poetry and writing, it stays confined to his journals and art; he doesn’t usually bring it to work. 

.

Tires crunch on the pea gravel of the parking lot as Jackson’s truck comes into view, followed by a sleek little silver sudan. The truck has the greenhouse decal on the side, helpfully modified by Yugyeom with a rainbow sticker above the _G._ Jaebeom knows it’s technically against JYP’s tenuous policy to modify the design without explicit permission, but there’s a reason the work chat is called _jb’s big fat gay plant house_. He won’t begrudge them a little fun.

The truck rolls to a stop next to the flagstone piles where Jackson always parks. He gets out first before walking around to open the passenger side door for Mark because he’s dramatic as hell and it always makes Mark chuckle. The sedan pulls up smoothly next to them in the adjacent spot, and two more people exit the car. They must be the new hires, but Jaebeom can’t really see them from his position at the counter.

All four cross the parking lot in a group to the door, voices growing louder. Jackson walks in first, his boisterous laughter filling the room immediately and clashing with the entry bell, and Jaebeom is silently amazed at how he carries that personality around every day. Maybe Jaebeom is just a homebody, though. 

He’s halfway through wondering if Jackson's compact physique has anything to do with it when he catches Mark’s pained smile from over his shoulder, and that’s odd. Mark is generally pretty laid back; he wouldn’t get stressed like that over nothing. Jaebeom doesn’t have much time to think about it, though, before his attention is drawn to the two new arrivals. The first he sees is tall and slender, with fashionable close-cropped hair dyed a brilliant shade of peroxide blonde and round pink sunglasses sliding jauntily down his nose. He’s smiling cheekily at his companion, bent at the waist in a way that says _PLEASE LOOK AT MY VERY LONG LEGS_ in electric blue comic sans. His friend (and they’re clearly friends, from the way they lean towards each other to chatter back and forth) is wearing slacks and a blue button down--an outfit that would be sensible literally anywhere else. He’s even wearing loafers, _what the fuck_ . Jaebeom’s eyes travel back up to his face as he sweeps brown hair away from his temples in a smooth motion and _shit, oh shit_.

Jaebeom turns his gaze back to Mark at lightning speed, so hard he almost feels his neck crack. Mark is looking back at him, still pained even as he tries to hide it. 

Jaebeom is not nearly so fortunate in concealing his reaction. But, well, what else can he do when Park Jinyoung waltzes back into his life like this. In fucking loafers. God, Jaebeom is torn between vaulting over the counter to smack him flat across the face and ducking under it to start a new life as a brownie. He’s not super handy, but he could probably make it work.

He knows that he should probably say something, but his eyes keep sliding between Jinyoung--in his store, with beautiful hair, wearing _fucking loafers, Jesus_ \--and Mark--the newest on a moderate list of friends who have in some way betrayed him. He probably looks like something of a fish; he can feel the way his bottom lip sticks to his upper every time he opens it in renewed shock, but he really doesn’t know what else to do when he’s suddenly staring at the main cause of his top 10 high school fuckups in the face (and top 3 life fuckups, but that’s a whole other can of worms). He's allowed little dramatism.

He’s reassured slightly by the fact that Jinyoung looks nearly as shocked as he feels, but mostly Jaebeom wants to yell at Jackson and Mark and run away to the woods. Jinyoung’s friend (and _ow_ , that stings a little, pulls at an old scar Jaebeom was almost sure had healed over by now) pokes forcefully at his arm, and Jinyoung finally startles enough to look away. _Small blessings,_ Jaebeom thinks.

Mark does the same to Jaebeom, albeit with a bit more gentleness to his touch. Jaebeom looks over to him, meeting his eyes like a panicked animal and silently begs for help or advice or anything to end this awful dream. Mark’s eyebrows furrow slightly as if using telepathy to say _Not a dream, just shitty circumstances_. Jaebeom can almost hear his voice.

Before help or advice, though, Jaebeom’s got to figure out what to do with his face. Slack-jawed is never a good look for too long. He settles for a forced smile that probably looks more like a grimace, judging by the confused look on Jackson's face. God, Jaebeom almost wishes Youngjae were here, at least then someone would understand why he’s so panicked. But Youngjae has, in the time since Jackson’s truck pulled up, moved back to the greenhouses with their elderly customer, probably to carry her box for her. No, as it stands, all Jaebeom has to plot his escape with is a confused Jackson, an apologetic Mark, a stranger, a could be-stranger, and _oh no_ , he didn’t even think-

“Jinyoung hyung!” Yugyeom shouts in surprise, bounding over to the man in question like the excitable puppy he is, and it hurts, a little bit, to see his friend so excited and not be able to share in it. There was a time in his life where Jaebeom would have been over the moon to see Jinyoung come back, but, well. Things change, clearly.

Jinyoung readily accepts Yugyeom's hug, staggering back at the force of it. Yugyeom has grown a couple inches since the last time Jinyoung saw him and now towers over everyone in the room, yet another milestone Jinyoung missed when he left. Worst of all, they get along just as well as they always had, falling easily into their routine of chatting and egging each other on in that fond way that, when directed at him, always made Jaebeom’s toes curl. He can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry, but he gets the feeling that if he doesn’t shut this down soon, it's going to be the latter. 

In a brilliant moment of actually using his brain, though, Jaebeom clears his throat instead of actively breaking down in front of his ex-best friend. The sound gets Yugyeom’s attention, who takes it as being chastised (even though it’s definitely not this time, but he’ll just have to explain that later) and gives Jinyoung another brief hug and a promise of “We can talk more later!” before snagging the extra spray sunscreen from under the counter. 

Jaebeom frowns, momentarily distracted from the worst crisis of his adult life thus far when he sees the shiny pinkness on Yugyeom’s beaky nose. He grabs Yugyeom’s elbow to force him to stay put and ducks down for the non-spray sunscreen, dolloping some in hand before reaching up and slathering it across the bridge. Yugyeom only whines a little before leaving to continue watering, and Jaebeom knows him well enough now to know that he actually kind of likes the babying. _Maknae on top, indeed_.

“Who was the jolly green giant?” tall and blonde asks, peering over to rims of his ridiculous sunglasses. Jinyoung just looks at Jaebeom like he’s grown a second head.

“That’s- uh, that’s Yugyeom,” Jaebeom stutters, struggling to form a coherent thought in front of Jinyoung--holy shit, Jinyoung’s back, and he’s looking at him again, “but that’s not important.”

“Seems pretty important to me,” he simpers, and, okay, there’s _something_ to unpack there, but Jaebeom is a little busy. Jinyoung collects his expression into something serene, like an asshole. He’s quickly gotten over the initial shock, it seems, but of course Jaebeom isn’t so lucky. Jaebeom quickly slides his eyes to Jackson, panicked, but Jackson either doesn’t get the hint or doesn’t care, because he just leans over to tall and blonde--and Jesus, Jaebeom needs to get this stranger’s name before he’s “tall and blonde” in his head forever--and continues talking. Again, Jaebeom wishes Youngjae was here, especially as he feels Jinyoung’s eyes bore into the side of his head.

He just needs a second to think and breathe. He feels so tightly wound, like he’s one more of Jinyoung’s pointed looks away from snapping like an overused rubberband. He’s breathing a little harshly at this point, and Mark is reaching for his arm again and Jinyoung is looking at him, head slowly tilting to the side, looking exactly like he did in high school, when they were friends and things were _okay-_

That’s what does him in, in the end. To think, years of “moving on,” ruined in one fell swoop by an innocent tilt of Park Jinyoung’s head. Jaebeom wants to hate him so badly. He wants to hate him openly, right now, in the middle of his modest store. Instead, he quickly whips out his phone from one of his pockets. “Excuse me for a second, I have a call coming in,” it’s a silly little trick, one he used to use as a new hire when an especially sour customer would come in. Obviously there’s no actual call, so Jaebeom just holds his phone up to his face and leaves the store in search of some peace.

He finds it, or whatever classifies as peace in this case, in the locked confines of the employee bathroom, staring himself down in the mirror. He manages a small smile at the gummy Christmas decorations that Youngjae had wheedled him into putting up and then never took down. It’s short-lived, though, when a gentle knock sounds at the door.

“Jaebeomie,” he bites down the urge to snap at Mark for the nickname, “if you can’t do this today, we can just send Jinyoung and Bambam back out and figure it out from there. You don’t have to do training if you don’t want to, but you can’t stay in the bathroom,” he ends on a firmer note.

Jaebeom makes a whiney noise deep in his throat that sounds suspiciously like he’s about to cry, even to him, and thunks his head against the door in response. Distantly, his files _Bambam_ into place in his mind; no more tall and blonde.

“C’mon, Jaebeom,” Mark speaks softly through the door. “You can do this, and you have all of us to help.” Jaebeom swipes at his eyes quickly, not knowing when they started to water, and steels himself for a moment before opening the door wide.

Mark is standing on the other side, smiling softly. He looks Jaebeom in the eyes before speaking. “You _can_ do this,” he says and Jaebeom snorts, “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you can. This is just going to be another thing that will suck pretty bad, but you _will_ get through it.” He raises his arms lightly from his sides. “That being said, do you want a hug first? Be warned, I smell like DEET.”

Jaebeom chuckles, “We all smell like DEET, idiot,” but he still walks into Mark’s embrace, arms naturally going low even though he’s taller. “Thank you, hyung. I didn’t expect-” he cuts off, “he caught me off guard.”

“I know,” Mark pulls back with a frown, “I wish I could’ve warned you.”

“I think you tried, but mostly you just looked like you were in pain,” Jaebeom remarks.

“Yah!” Mark looks jokingly affronted at Jaebeom’s claim and pulls him back in without hesitation. “You can do this, Jaebeomie. But you don’t have to do it alone,” he says into the side of Jaebeom’s head, somber again.

Jaebeom lets out a wet chuckle at that, wiping his nose discreetly and then cringing at the heavy scent of citronella. “I know, hyung,” he agreed, pulling away to smack at his cheeks a couple times, shaking off some of his upset. “And you’re right. I can’t stay in the bathroom forever.”

Mark smiles at him and pats him once on the shoulder. It’s times like these where Mark--baby, pseudo-maknae Mark-- steps into his role as a hyung. He knows how much it means to Jaebeom. They may be very similar, intelligence-wise, but Jaebeom has always relied on Mark’s extra year as a source of wisdom, even though, in the grand scheme of things, a year is not that long.

Jaebeom dampens a paper towel in the sink and wipes in roughly over his cheeks, leaving them flushed and red for a different reason. Regardless of how the rest of the day--and the rest of the summer, _yikes_ \-- plays out, Jinyoung is on his turf now. There’s nothing he can do here to fuck with Jaebeom. It’s a small comfort.

He redoes his small ponytail before closing the bathroom door behind himself. Mark trails behind him as he walks, and soon (far too soon) he’s face to face with his newcomers again. He molds his face into the best friendly smile he can manage, given the circumstances. He wipes his hand, damp with bug spray and sunscreen and regular old sweat on his cargo pants once before sticking it out over the counter towards Jinyoung and Bambam.

“Hi there, I’m Jaebeom. I’m assuming you’re the new employees?” No point in drawing this out, there’s no reason for them to be there otherwise. Bambam grabs onto his hand first and with an enthusiasm that startles Jaebeom, flailing it up and down as he smiles wide.

“Nice to meet you Jaebeom-ssi. I’m Bambam,” he responds, although Jaebeom already knows that by now. He notices Jinyoung is standing further back, looking at his hand with trepidation. Jaebeom is overcome again with that urge to yell, to throw a fit. It’s not _his_ fault that things are the way they are. He reels it in, though. In the grand scheme of things, it probably won’t make him feel any better, and he’s had years to learn how to be the bigger person.

He drops Bambam's hand and reaches out purposely to Jinyoung, who startles before reaching back. There’s no spark of electricity between the two, but it’s almost worse than if there had been. Instead, it’s just Jinyoung and his warm, familiar hands, and Jaebeom allows himself to enjoy it for a second before speaking, “Good to see you Jinyoung,” his tone purposely flat, so Jinyoung knows that it’s not actually that good. His message seems to get across fine, as Jinyoung winces imperceptibly before responding.

“You as well, Jaebeom hyu-” he catches himself on the first sound, and Jaebeom’s chest feels tight, “Jaebeom-ssi. I didn’t know you’d be here.” He sounds almost questioning, but Jaebeom isn’t about to let him pry into his life.

“Yup. Here I am,” Jaebeom looks into Jinyoung’s face one more time before dropping Jinyoung’s hand. Their connection breaks, and that’s the end of it. It’s fine.

Jaebeom looks over to Bambam again, who is staring at Jinyoung with badly concealed confusion. “Well, welcome, I guess. You probably already guessed, but today’s just going to be training,” Jinyoung and Bambam nod in tandem. “First things first, though. You two really need to change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! ty for reading :) next update might come a bit later because im moving into my dorm soon,,, thank you for your patience w me :))))))


	3. Chapter 3

Jinyoung and Bambam look down at their outfits, clearly fashioned for city life, while Mark chuckles beside them. Jaebeom doesn’t know what the hell they were thinking, coming into a greenhouse where they are guaranteed to get messy in outfits that were never meant for dirt or bugs or fertilizer. Despite his still overwhelming feelings, Jaebeom snorts in humor at their confused faces, because if they think their jobs are going to be clean in any way then he’s going to put them on sod rolling until they forget what “clean” means. He generally doesn’t schedule any jobs for his employees that he himself won’t work, but one time rolling sod in Jackson’s place changed his mind pretty quickly.

Regardless of their daily job, though, they need to be wearing different clothes. “Okay, well I hope you have different shoes and pants in your car, or else you’re going to have to wear something of Mark or I’s,” Mark wrinkles his nose at being volunteered, but ultimately stays quiet he remembers the day Jaebeom has had (and will continue to have. Curse when problems don’t go away immediately). Jaebeom himself is a little shocked at how quickly he gave up his extra clothes, but Jinyoung has him all out of sorts. It makes sense that he’s do something stupid like this without thinking.

Both the new hires look sheepishly up at Jaebeom before Bambam speaks up. “We may have… Neglected to dress the part. Sorry…” he trails off. Jaebeom raises his eyebrows at Jinyoung, who was never one to be unprepared for much of anything and looks sheepish for it now. The gesture is so familiar to him, his incredulity at Jinyoung nothing new, although it has a different flavor now. He clicks his tongue before turning towards the storage room in the back of the store and marching off to grab pants and sandals.

Before Jaebeom managed the greenhouse, no one brought spare clothes in. This was also before the hoses, which had worked loyally for three years, decided to spring a new leak everyday for a week. One too many times being too drenched to go back in the store had spurred some new policies.

The storage room is dim and a little dusty and filled with boxes. Normally they store things in the garage, so the only stuff up here is seasonal decorations and the cats’ litter boxes. His hands drift immediately to the eye level shelf holding all the extra clothes. He volunteered Mark quickly after a preliminary glance at Bambam revealed long twigs legs and not much else; Mark’s gear should fit him fine. 

He… didn’t mean to volunteer his own clothes for Jinyoung, but some ancient and forgotten temple of his brain had decided to suddenly remember how Jinyoung always seemed to fit into his stolen pajama pants with ease. Curse the trials of memory, he guesses. If the newbies remember the dress code, he’ll only be suffering for a day anyway. 

Jinyoung and Bambam accept their respective stacks will minimal fuss, although Bambam does pull a face at Mark’s straight boy basketball shorts, which makes Jinyoung chuckle and subsequently makes Jaebeom’s heart squeeze. He shakes himself out of it, though, and turns to Mark. “We’re gonna need the  _ t s h i r t  _ box,” he spells out. His precautions don’t do much though, because he quickly hears Yugyeom’s excited squeal (he must have been eavesdropping) of “t-shirt box?” come from the greenhouse, followed by Youngjae’s echo of the same.  _ And I tried so hard to be discreet _ , he thinks as both boys sprint up to the front, Yugyeom with little regard for personal space as he slams into Jaebeom, but Youngjae slows to a hesitant walk when he sees Jinyoung.

Unfortunately Jinyoung notices the new addition immediately, and tunes out Yugyeom’s excited squawks to direct his attention to Youngjae, offering up a breathtaking smile that squishes his cheeks into happy wrinkles. “Hi, Youngjae.” Youngjae looks at Jaebeom once, like he’s asking permission, but Jaebeom knows how hard this situation has always been hard for Youngjae—the caught-in-between. He won’t deny him a little joy just because he’s still upset, and he nods almost imperceptibly.

Taking this as approval, Youngjae darts over to Jinyoung to give him a tight squeeze, and Jaebeom doesn’t miss the whispered exchange of “I missed you, hyung.” He looks away quickly and catches Yugyeom’s puppy dog eyes right under his chin, still whining about the t-shirt box. He lets out a long-suffering sigh before giving in.

“Yes, Yugyeom, you can go get the t-shirt box,” Yugyeom yelps excitedly before loping off to the storage room. He’s the only one tall enough to get the box, anyway, but Mark and Jaebeom share an incredulous look of  _ Why does he like this so much?  _ at his enthusiasm. 

They’ve asked him before, why he likes the t-shirt box so much, but all he said was “I like that it’s new,” which is either a refreshing glimpse into Yugyeom’s apparent childlike wonder or just really fucking stupid. He’s also managed to rope Youngjae into it, but that’s mostly just because Youngjae is an instigator at heart and will do anything to feed the Yugyeom-related fire threatening to burn down the establishment.

Said beanpole speeds out with the box and slams it down on the counter in front of Jinyoung, unearthing a couple tshirts in his haste. Jinyoung looks puzzled, reaching out to grab the box and slide it closer to himself and Bambam. “T-shirt box?” he questions, looking up at Jaebeom, who is most certainly never going to get used to looking Jinyoung in the eyes again.

“It’s, um,” Jaebeom stutters. Trying to find the words to describe Yugyeom’s weird obsession with the t-shirt box is difficult enough on a day where he hasn’t been thrown into panic mode. “It’s our uniform,” he puts  _ uniform _ in air quotes, “you’re going to want to grab about three, but you can always get more if you ruin one,” Jackson tearing his shirt clean down the middle had been one interesting instance, although he still refuses to tell Jaebeom how it happened.

Jinyoung quirks his eyebrows and starts to sort through the box for his size. Bambam does the same, holding up individual shirts to see the color. Yugyeom sits in anticipation. It’s been so long since they’ve had a new hire (not since Jackson came in), and he’s been desperate to talk about the t-shirt color personality test that he and Youngjae have developed over weeks of “bathroom breaks.”

Jinyoung pulls out two shirts, one purple and one green, while Bambam settles on grey and blue. Yugyeom rushes over to give the two his spiel, but Jaebeom tunes him out (although he can’t tune out Jinyoung’s breathy little  _ hms _ of agreement, because his brain is in overdrive).

“Okay,” he interrupts Yugyeom’s comment of “Grey usually means daddy issues, when’s the last time you called your dad?” (which makes Bambam honk like a goose), but it must barely deter him because he keeps whispering to Bambam, “you guys should change. There’s a bathroom in the back of the store,” he points past the fertilizers. “Just lock the door so customers don’t come in,” he looks pointedly at Jackson, who ducks his head slightly in apparent embarrassment (unlikely, though. When has Jackson ever been embarrassed about anything?). 

Jinyoung and Bambam head back, and Jaebeom allows a moment’s pause before he turns toward his friends, panic written clearly across his face. He feels his eyebrows knit together like he knows they do when he’s stressed until Youngjae presses his thumb to the crease from across the counter. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits, which is rare for him. He’s had a good four years of knowing what’s going on, and this is his apparent punishment.

All of their faces fall at this, noticing the unusual admission. Without the context of a shared high school experience, Jackson looks confused, but the rest of them reach to him in sympathy. This affected all of them in some way. 

Youngjae still has that torn look on his face, but he speaks calmly, “Hyung, you just need to do what you usually do with newbies,” he brightens, “Just pretend they’re me and Yugyeom!”

Jaebeom snorts incredulously, eyes still wide, “But they’re not you and Gyeom, that’s the whole problem. Plus, no way I could deal with that many of you. You’re already a handful.” His two youngest friends whine at this, but at least they’re smiling again.

“You can always call this off, Beom,” Mark reasons, eyes full of care.

And Jaebeom knows that. He knows he’s under no obligation to keep them on, and if it doesn’t work, he’ll find others. JYP probably won’t even notice (or care), but part of Jaebeom, the competitive part he thought he buried long ago, wants to see if he  _ can _ do this. He understands that he’s given into this one-sided test of wills (because is pretty much guaranteed that Jinyoung isn’t bothered by any of this), but if nothing else, this summer will prove once and for all whether or not he ever got over whatever it was Jinyoung and he had (or didn’t have, more like).

He’s still unsure on some level, though, and it shows. “What do I even normally do with new people? Youngjae, what did I do with you?”

Youngjae looks contemplative for a second. “I think you started with a tour? I remember not knowing where anything was for a while.”

_ A tour.  _ Well that’s easy. Of course Jaebeom can give a tour. “Do you think I could stick them on potting bench? That doesn’t need supervision…” he trails off, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t actually know anything about a business he’s been running for years.

Youngjae makes a pouty face at his plan, clearly wanting some company on register in addition to Jackson for the day, but quickly catches himself and schools his face into something more neutral when he realizes the implications. Jaebeom appreciates it, although he knows that Youngjae’s too good a person to ever hurt his feelings on purpose, and he wouldn’t want to make Youngjae pick between him or Jinyoung anyway. That had been a hard pill to swallow in high school, but it’s gotten easier with time.

Jackson leans over the counter to get into Jaebeom’s space, “That sounds good! And you can come back up here after.” 

“You had me on potting bench for a week when I started, Hyung,” Yugyeom pipes up, shooting for encouragement but taking a detour to cheeky and landing somewhere in between, like he often does. Still, this banter is familiar to him, and it’s another time for him to appreciate his friends’ endless care and patience for him. Even Jackson, who he met long after Jinyoung had left, is eyeing him with compassion, an easy feat when you look like a puppy. 

Jaebeom’s panic settles to a dull roar in his chest as his plans settle in his brain. “A tour won’t be so bad, and then I can just come up here for the rest of the day. I have to fill out order forms anyway,” he repeats Jackson’s idea and tilts his head back towards the office. 

His friends all nod, presumably trying to give him confidence. The door to the bathroom creaks open (he really needs to oil those hinges), and they all exchange some wobbly smiles before Jinyoung and Bambam walk out, clad in greenhouse apparel.

Bambam is lanky in his shirt and shorts combo, but Jaebeom could have guessed he would from one look at him when he first walked in. Jinyoung looks… like he always has. Soft and warm and inviting. He’s gotten a bit more built since the last time Jaebeom saw him, but he’s still so so familiar. Jaebeom would bet good money that he even smells the same.  _ Like springtime _ , Jaebeom would tell him when he asked, years ago. 

He smiles softly at Jaebeom, and this is so, so unfair. Jaebeom looks back at the hoard behind him, all hovering like hummingbirds around his shoulders. “You guys can go back to your jobs now. I’ll check in later,” he probably won’t, honestly; he trusts them to do their work. The group around the register finally disperses to their spots throughout the greenhouse, giving Jaebeom a little breathing room. “First I’ll give you guys a tour of everything, and then I’ll give you your jobs for today.” They both nod, looking more comfortable in their grubby gardening clothes than they did before.

“So we’re in the shop right now,” he sweeps an arm out to gesture around the space. “We’ll walk through more of the specifics up here when I schedule you on register, but that’s not today.” 

He waves a hand in a  _ follow me _ motion, and leads the pair towards the entry to the greenhouse after a brief goodbye to Youngjae and Jackson up front. 

Nora crawls out of her place under the counter to follow him, softly  _ mrrp _ ing with each bouncy step she takes towards him. Jaebeom appreciates her dedication to following him everywhere, especially now when he could really use the support. “This is Nora, she’s our princess. You’ll probably meet the other cats at some point, so don’t freak out if you see one.” Bambam coos at her in baby tones and Jinyoung smiles down at her pretty face.

_ Jinyoung and cats… this is too much. _

“That’s the door to the nursery,” he distracts and gestures to the open door on his left leading to the outside area. From the doorway they can see the big shade trees and the corner of the pergola where all the shrubs live. “And this,” he motions, open-handed, to the newly revealed expanse of greenhouse in front of him, “is the greenhouse.

It’s beautiful, even to him. Maybe especially to him. No one recognizes the months of work that go into making it look this good like he does. Across the six greenhouse rooms, arranged in a two by three grid, is a near endless sea of color. Jaebeom has worked so hard to make everything grow, to learn the secrets behind each plant’s success. The hanging ivy baskets hang prettily over the herbs, and the air smells like rosemary and sage. He’s trained black-eyed susans up wooden stakes and has bulbs of every color and type growing high out of their pots.

Every corner shows the care he’s put into this place. In the first greenhouse, he can see the eggplants starters that he and Youngjae propagated together while they talked about potential internships, and hanging from the front of each room, he sees the signs that he and Yugyeom painted when they were both brand new to the place. In some ways, it’s almost… revealing to have Jinyoung see this place. Every piece tells a story. Everything gives some part of him away.

The first and second rooms, laid out in one long column, house all the seasonal fruits and vegetables. Everything in the section is relatively new because they’re early in the season, but he finds small joy in his baby tomatoes, finally branching out one leaf higher and the little pumpkin vines snaking past the edges of their pots.

The third and fourth rooms are for perennials, house plants, and herbs. The air is sweet and savory with floral scents and spice. Youngjae has truly outdone himself with the houseplants in here. There’s towering snake plants and perfectly round cacti and spider plants with their webs of pups, as well as Youngjae’s pride and joy: an imposing firestick that’s yet to be sold (Jaebeom tells him at least once a week that he should just take it home, but Youngjae’s leaving for his internship soon, so he doesn’t see the point).

The fifth and sixth rooms are only for annuals, and this is where most of Jaebeom’s efforts show. It’s always pure chaos when the annual plugs come in, and it’s all hands on deck for the whole week, but the results are worth it. This is where the colors really come alive. Jaebeom has cultivated tables on tables of rainbows of petunias and pansies. There are geraniums, carefully trimmed into happy little piles of blossoms, and trails of violet vinca and blushing impatiens lining the walls. 

Maybe he was wrong to say he doesn’t take art to work, because from the look on Jinyoung’s slack face, he’s created a masterpiece here.

Bambam pipes up from where he’s standing in shock, “Wow… This is... Just wow, Jaebeom-ssi.” Jaebeom’s chest puffs out slightly at the praise, at the acknowledgement of all his efforts.

“You’ve really made something beautiful here,” Jinyoung says, far closer to Jaebeom’s ear than he was initially expecting. His stomach twists and warms at the praise, and it feels like he’s turning to goo in his boots. His small smile lights up the whole sunny greenhouse, and Jaebeom has the feeling that if he were to look at the flowers, they would all be turning towards him.  _ You’ve made something beautiful of yourself _ is what he doesn’t say. 

It wouldn’t be true, anyway. Jaebeom may thrive off denial, but he won’t lie to himself about this; Jinyoung has always been beautiful. He treasures and resents the feelings that Jinyoung inspires, has always inspired, in him. The familiar ache is all he has to show for it some days, like an old friend. Like Jinyoung was, for a long time.

Jinyoung, whose whole face is flushing as Jaebeom continues to look at him.

_ Uh oh _ .

Swiftly redirecting his thoughts and his eyes, he points to a green door on the far wall to the right of them, “That’s the garage. If you ever need flats, trays, pots, or soil that where they’ll be. We also keep the empty recycling buckets in there.”

This,” he thumbs a door behind them to the right, where Yugyeom has written “NO SMOKING PLS :P” on a sheet of notebook paper and taped it up, “is the boiler room. All the tools are in there. Brooms, too. You’ll be doing a lot of sweeping,” Jinyoung continues to watch him attentively as he explains, and Bambam makes a face at the thought of sweeping. How the hell did they get these jobs.  _ What the fuck, JYP?  _ Jaebeom thinks, not for the first time.

“You guys are actually going to be on potting bench today,” originally Jaebeom had plans of putting both of them in the nursery, but his brain clearly got a little scrambled. This will work out fine, though, and he’s gotten used to being a little more flexible with scheduling over the years.

Bambam chirps a pleasant  _ okay _ back at him as he leads them to the back greenhouse. It’s technically employee-only, and Jaebeom only opens it up to customers when the rose shipment comes early (like it does, every year) and it’s too cold to put them outside. Other than that, he mostly just uses the space to organize seeds and extra pots. There’s also a massive tomato plant that Youngjae grew from seed and affectionately named “Big Daddy“ that he’s under strict instructions not to touch.

The potting bench comes to Jaebeom’s belly button, and he leans back to rest his weight on it while eyeballing the two standing nervously in front of him. “Alright, you’re going to learn how to fill pots today. This is the first thing anyone does, because it’s the only job here that you’ll be doing forever.” They both look a little uneasy at his deadpan tone. “It literally never ends,” he starts, going for intimidating but lightening up quickly, “but it’s not difficult.”

First we’re gonna need to grab a soil bag,” he smacks the bag already up on the bench behind him. “Normally they’re in the garage like I said, but I went ahead and brought a couple in here,” which is bad for his back, and he really shouldn’t. This is why he keeps Yugyeom around, anyway. “Then, you have to get it onto the bench,” the bag arcs through the air on his shoulder and lands with a  _ thump _ . The box cutter is still sitting on the bench from yesterday, and he pops the blade out to cut a large  _ X _ into the front of the bag “Then you open it and fill the pots. You might have to break up the soil a bit because it’s still damp.”

They both hum, watching his hands studiously, which Jaebeom finds funny because this is literally the easiest job they have.

“Try to lift with your legs, too. You probably already know that but I don’t want you to fuck up your backs and gets OSHA on my ass, so…” he trails off, and Jinyoung faces contorts with concern.

“Is your back still…?”

“I’m fine,” Jaebeom cuts him off, curt. Any mention of their shared history, of the fact that Jinyoung just  _ knows _ things about him, settles sour in his stomach. 

“You’re going to fill four inch talls today,” he moves on, holding up the little black plastic pot. “There’s a huge stack of them under the bench, and the trays are right next to it. Once they’re full you can just stack the trays over by Big Daddy-” Jinyoung’s eyes snap up to Jaebeom’s and lock while Bambam’s repeated wheezing plays like a laugh track. Jaebeom stares unblinking before turning red and desperately motioning to the tomato plant behind him, “It’s- Big Daddy is Youngjae’s- I mean, not his  _ daddy _ , it’s just his plant, it’s over there- it’s not like a  _ daddy _ daddy.” He’s definitely babbling at this point, but he’s drawn up short when Jinyoung’s laser stare unfolds into the loveliest smile he’s ever seen. His cheeks push his eyes into sweet crinkles and his handsome grin curves around his laugh, lower than it was when Jaebeom knew him. 

He still has a little gap between his front teeth.

It seems the whole day has cumulated to this moment, and it’s fitting that this is what does Jaebeom in. Years have passed and he’s grown so much, and he’s sure that Jinyoung has, too, but there are still these familiar parts to him. The way he holds himself, the roundness to his cheeks, the way he always makes Jaebeom feel so, so warm and fragile—all these ghosts come back to Jaebeom now. 

The problem is that Jaebeom spent all his adolescent years head over heels in love with his best friend, who took off almost immediately after graduating and left Jaebeom stewing in unrequited feelings for years. Jaebeom’s aware that he’s not perfect and teenage codependence isn’t always the best look, but,  _ fuck _ , he’s worked  _ hard _ to get where he is today. He’s had years to learn to live with the heartache, and yet one gap-toothed smile from Park Jinyoung has his stomach fluttering and his knees knocking together. Seeing Jinyoung again feels remarkably awful—like all those gushy, confusing feelings that teenage Jaebeom harbored towards him for years have given way to even more confusing adult feelings. Jaebeom distinctly feels like he’s suddenly been plopped back into his junior year Literature class, forced to analyze a shitty poem about a wheelbarrow when all he can think about is how pink Jinyoung’s ears get when he laughs.

A whole summer of this is looking more and more unachievable by the minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again :) i'm trying to get on a better updating schedule from now on !! hope yall enjoy :D


	4. Chapter 4

The greenhouse office is actually pretty small. Jackson has one side to himself as head landscaper, but he rarely uses it anyway, which is part of the reason it’s so god-awful messy over there. His method of organization seems to be that whatever is on top of a pile is what’s current, and anything under it doesn’t matter anymore. Jaebeom’s side, in contrast, is impeccably clean. He has all the work requests and order forms organized into binders and his desktop monitor is remarkably dust-free for how much of it is in the air. Each of the cats has a bed in the office, although they like to play musical beds every once in a while to freak Jaebeom out when he reaches for Nora under his desk and finds Odd instead.

Regardless of how clean or messy it is, they don’t use it for much; Jaebeom and Jackson are both more hands-on as supervisors. Why _tell_ Youngjae to clean petunias when Jaebeom could help and get it done in half the time?

Now, though, Jaebeom finds himself appreciating the solitude of his tidy office. He’s embarrassed to say that he scooted out of the potting bench area pretty quick after his slip-up. Now he’s holed away in his office, intermittently pacing and sitting down to stare at order forms. He’s not actually processing any information, though—just bouncing his leg up and down and freaking out.

Nora grew tired of his nervous energy a long time ago and left to go take up space on the counter and greet customers—she really is their star employee. Kunta is just as wound up as his owner, but instead of leaving him alone he’s decided to bite Jaebeom’s ankles whenever he paces past the printer stand.

Jinyoung coming back like this is most certainly just a coincidence, but it’s hard to believe that this isn’t some form of divine punishment for Jaebeom. He just has no clue what for. 

_Maybe he should have been nicer to Yugyeom?_

Probably not, but it would be so much easier if there was something specific he could atone for to get this nightmare over with. It’s like Jaebeom can’t help the way he reacts to Jinyoung—if only he wasn’t still so handsome and so good at choosing his words, _if only he wasn’t Jaebeom’s best friend._

It’s all the same problem he had before, just slightly to the left, shifted into minor mode, two tones lighter. Jaebeom finds it easier to talk about his affection for Jinyoung as if it’s something changed, something new, rather than admitting that he’s suddenly 17 again and everything is the same. Zac Efron, eat your heart out.

He can’t mope in his office forever, though, which Jackson explains wordlessly by pressing his forehead to the glass window in the door and staring at him until he gets out of his chair and comes out. Jackson is right, even without knowing the full story.

Jaebeom is starting to think he can trip up his mushy heart by activating his competitive brain. Hiding in his office would mean admitting defeat and admitting that Jinyoung’s presence can make him want to hole away like this. No, he needs to keep with his regular routine if he wants to win.

He flicks the glass over Jackson’s forehead, who frowns, but moves so that Jaebeom can leave. Youngjae’s eyes follow him as he walks out to the nursery, plugging his headphones in as he moves.

Maybe he’s treating himself as a reward for his shit day, because watering in the nursery is his favorite job, especially on big tree day. Lucky for him, it’s Monday, which means big trees are up first.

Out here, he can tune out whatever is going on in the greenhouse, as well as any other parts of his life that are bothering him (which he has a lot of now). He starts to unwind the longest of the hoses from its hook to the sounds of his most recently compiled r&b playlist.

Music has always had a special place in his heart, and he sometimes wonders if he should’ve taken that love and run with it right out of this town, but he can’t find it in himself to have too many regrets. Maybe his dreams aren’t as lofty and incredible as they were in high school, but they’re realistic, and, more importantly, they’re workable. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with the entertainment industry, but he has goals of buying this place out from under JYP, and that’s something he at least knows how to work towards.

He still has a soundcloud to release things for fun, and sometimes he can even get Youngjae in on it. It’s as fulfilling as he needs it to be to not have any regrets, and it’s always a good time, especially watching Youngjae unfold under praise and grow into his confidence a little bit. He’s leaving soon for an internship at a recording studio, and Jaebeom could not be more proud of his friend. If he were younger, he might feel that old jealousy start to well up, but that’s long gone now. 

Now he has the distinct pleasure of watching his friends thrive and feeling all the positives of that process and none of the negatives. Breaking the connection between his friends’ success and his own had done wonders for his confidence.

He’s got the hose unwound now and drags it to the furthest corner of the lot where he keeps a small outcropping of shade trees for sale. He times his watering count with the low beats of his music. The air out here is fresh and clean and dirt free—one of the reasons everyone likes to work out in the nursery. They all have their favorite spots, though. Sometimes it’s hard to schedule for the majority of your closest friends as their boss-ish, but Jaebeom loves working in this happy little greenhouse family. Like all the plants inside, they’ve grown into this place.

He wonders if Jinyoung and Bambam will ever feel at home here like he does. He doesn’t know whether or not he even wants them to, and he chafes at the idea of not having a say.

.

Bambam looks like a dirty twelve year old when he comes out with Jinyoung trailing behind him. His hair, although short in the first place, has flattened dramatically to his forehead with sweat, and he’s got dirt streaked up to his elbows. Jaebeom knows if he looked at Bambam’s fingernails, they’d be caked. Jaebeom really has to stop taking in younger friends, though, because even though Bambam is dirty and sweaty, he still gives Jaebeom “endearing younger brother” vibes, and it’s only been a day.

Jinyoung is also pretty dirty, but it just… looks different on him. He looks like some farmer’s son that everyone falls in love with right away (and the description isn’t that far off, in reality). He’s got a healthy flush to his cheeks and dirt smeared on one of his large ears, and Jaebeom catches himself from reaching up to rub it off, instincts nearly betraying him once more.

“We finished stacking trays by Big Daddy,” Bambam’s voice stutters on _Big Daddy_ in badly-concealed laughter, and Jinyoung outright smiles. Jaebeom guesses that this is just going to be one of those things that people never forget (and he’s sure that Bambam already told Yugyeom, somehow. Those two are definitely going to be trouble). “What do you want us doing next?”

Jaebeom raises his eyebrow at the “us,” not sure why it bothers him. Bambam and Jinyoung obviously know each other, but he didn’t get couple-vibes from them at all, so they must just be good friends. 

_Why do I even care?_ Jaebeom berates himself.

He doesn’t realize the pause he’s taken until Jinyoung clears his throat. “Right, sorry, um,” begins, “I think I’ll probably just let you guys take over for me out here?” He’s done a couple columns of big trees in his hour outside, so he’s okay with going back in. He points back to another hose, “One of you is going to have to unwind that hose and do the fruit trees, and I’ll show you where those are in a second. You normally water based on pot size, but these big trees,” he points down the row, “are all the same size, so just do about 30 seconds each. Like this,” he demonstrates the slow count they do to water for a couple seconds and then holds out the long hose attachment. “Who wants to do these ones?”

Bambam reaches for the hose and gives Jaebeom a thumbs up and he switches it out and starts counting out loud, which Jaebeom finds a little funny because it shows how new Bambam is and he chuckles. He looks over to Jinyoung, who is relaxed but watching expectantly.

“Ah, okay, here,” he starts over to the fruit trees. They’re shorter than the rest so they’re easy to pick out. “These two columns are the fruit trees, and you’ll use the hose at the front of this aisle,” he points, “to do these trees. If anyone comes up to you and asks questions, you can come get me or Jackson from up front.” Jinyoung nods blankly, and Jaebeom wonders at the lack of expression on a face that usually smiles so readily. Whatever, he’s not going to reminisce.

Jaebeom moves to head back inside, watering time cut short, but remembers, “Oh, and Jinyoung,” Jinyoung’s head pops up from where he was bent unraveling the hose, “if you find any fruit on the trees, you can eat it. The white peaches are really good right now.” Jinyoung’s plush lips curl into a small smile, and he nods.

“I will, thanks, hyung,” his eyes widen for reasons Jaebeom can’t figure out and he busies himself with the hose. Jaebeom shrugs and goes back into the air conditioned store to sit in his office, yet again, although his hour or so watering has cleared his head a bit.

Cleared it so much, in fact, that he blanches when he looks back at his conversation (if you could call it that) with Jinyoung.

_Thanks, hyung._

Jinyoung hasn’t been around to call him hyung in a long time, but he was Jaebeom’s first younger friend, the first person he ever looked out for, and that’s not easy to forget. Jinyoung has been doing a pretty good job keeping him at arm's length with formalities, but it seems even he’s forgotten the game they’re playing. It pisses Jaebeom off that he’s trying hard to keep things casual between them for the sake of work when Jinyoung clearly isn’t worried about it. God, it’s like he doesn’t care what he does to Jaebeom. What an ass.

Jaebeom lurches forward to stick his head between his knees and groan. None of this is getting any easier, and he’s afraid that it probably never will, and his faith in his ability to cope with these changes is waning with every interaction.

Raised voices float into the office from the counter. May he never know peace?

He’s not about to leave Youngjae and Jackson alone with a shitty customer, though. He hoists himself from his chair by the arm and heads out to the counter, expecting to find some older woman with a beet red face and nasty words coming out of her mouth based on the volume, but it’s just his mom.

 _Fuck, that’s right._ For the years he’s worked here, his gift to his mother has been letting her come in to pick out the flowers for her front pot and paying for them. She smiles brightly at him from where she’d been talking animatedly to Youngjae (so that was where the loud voices came from) and holds out her hand to call him over. 

“Hi, mom,” he leans into her side in a hug. She rubs down his arm and squeezes his hand at the end.

“Hi, honey,” her voice is warm, like always. “I just came to pick up my present.”

Jaebeom smiles, “Sounds good. I set out some of the violet vinca you liked over by the succulents if you want that.” She nods and squeezes his arm one more time before waving goodbye to Youngjae, who whines like a puppy at her leaving, and heading back towards the greenhouse. Right as Jinyoung comes back in. 

They both freeze, and Jaebeom feels all the air leave his lungs. Jinyoung was _supposed_ to be in the nursery, this wasn’t _supposed_ to be a problem. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

Jaebeom’s mother’s face crinkles up, just like his, as she says, “Oh _hello_ Jinyoung,” and opens her arms. It’s bad enough that she’s so excited to see him, but her joy mirrored on Jinyoung’s face just adds insult to injury.

“Hi mom,” he says, ignoring Jaebeom’s incredulous face at the use of his childhood term of endearment and walking straight into her arms for a tight squeeze. This is what Jaebeom was hoping to avoid. Unfortunately for him now, his mom has always adored Jinyoung from the time he was little. When Jinyoung got older, they used to gossip all the time, and Jaebeom sometimes wondered if Jinyoung was only friends with him so he could talk to Jaebeom’s mom. 

Jaebeom remembers sitting at the base of the stairs and listening to the two of them chat in the kitchen, imagining some future he wouldn’t have.

She wasn’t too happy with Jinyoung when he breezed out of town but even she grew to miss him, her almost son. It shows now in how she rocks them side to side gently before pulling back to hold Jinyoung at arm's length. “Oh my, Jinyoung, have you gotten taller? You look so thin!”

Jinyoung flushes at the attention, “Don’t worry, I’m eating well. And I haven’t grown any in years. Yugyeom is taller than me now.”

She grins, “Well he’s taller than most everyone at this point,” and it’s true. His last growth spurt came a little late and shot him up past all of their friends in height. “How have you been? Here, come pick out my flowers with me and we can talk.”

Jinyoung glances nervously back at Jaebeom, who just nods blankly. For the sake of avoiding having to explain things, he’s not going to make a fuss in front of his mom (although she already knows the whole story).

Jinyoung smiles, small, and holds out his arm for Jaebeom’s mom to loop her arm through, like some Victorian gentleman taking a stroll through the gardens. It’s a little silly but mostly endearing, which is frustrating. Jaebeom huffs and turns back to Jackson and Youngjae, who are watching him with extreme interest. Youngjae looks like he desperately wants to say something, but has (wisely) decided to keep his mouth shut. He does, however, venture to put a hand on Jaebeom’s shoulder. Not in the mood, Jaebeom shakes off the comfort and storms off to his office, spooking Nora out of hiding under the desk.

He doesn’t need to think about this. It doesn’t need to be a big deal—that his mother is still so fond of Jinyoung, that her fondness is apparently reflected back in its entirety. It’s hard not to feel like he was the only problem, like he was the last puzzle piece that just didn’t fit. 

He’s getting all tangled up in these problems he thought he had trimmed back into neat, manageable shrubs; for the first time in years, his heart feels overgrown. 

He has order forms to deal with, though. Jinyoung and his mom can go be buddy-buddy in the greenhouse if they want, it’s no skin off his nose. He can weed back the brambles in his chest some other time.

. 

Jackson knocks gently on the office door before cracking it open. “Do you want to see your mom before you head out?”

Jaebeom groans from where his head is smushed onto his desk before raising it to glare at Jackson. He has the imprint of a pencil across his forehead and his eyes are puffy with sleep. Stress naps will do that to you, though. He’s sure his mom won’t mind. 

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

Jackson nods and closes the door again with a soft snick. Jaebeom really does not want to go back out there and have to face his mother and potentially Jinyoung, but it is a day all about her, and he wouldn’t be a very good son if he didn’t at least say goodbye. 

He lurches upwards and trudges forward at a snail’s pace, prolonging his torture as long as he can. His mother is standing at the counter while Youngjae rings her up, chatting happily. 

Jaebeom is an only child. It never bothered him a ton, and he grew to love being the center of his parents’ universe, even if the attention bothered him as a teenager. He always wondered, though, if they wanted more kids—more little stars to orbit. Even so, his mother seems to have made do by incorporating Jaebeom’s closest friends into her brood and circling them. She did it with Jinyoung when they were babies, and she did the same with Youngjae as soon as she met him (although she can hardly be blamed, Youngjae is the kind of person that’s easy to love). He’s sure she’ll get to that level with his other friends eventually, if they stick around. 

For now, Jaebeom just enjoys the way she reaches over the counter to pinch Youngjae’s cheek, slowly reddening under her teasing. 

Surprisingly, Jinyoung is nowhere to be found. Honestly, it makes the whole process easier for Jaebeom if he can just keep them separated now, so he’s not really complaining. 

“Did you find everything you were looking for, mom?”

She turns at his voice, “Of course I did. You have a wonderful selection this year, honey. It’s so nice to see it with my own eyes.” Jaebeom’s eyes instantly squeeze into happy crescents, perfectly mirroring hers, at the praise. He’s always valued his parents approval above most other things, so it’s important to him that they see the significance of his hard work. 

Youngjae finishes ringing her up and Jaebeom hip-checks him to the side to apply his employee discount code and then cancel the order. It’s all a formality to keep the sale on the books, and he’ll just take it out of his paycheck later. He hefts the tray up to carry it out to the car, following behind his mom like a duckling (like he’s been doing his whole life. Being an only child meant they did everything together when he was little). 

He slots the tray neatly into the backseat, careful to not spill any potting mix on the clean leather. A brief touch to his shoulder has him standing up to face his mom, who is looking at him with such concern that he nearly falls apart right there in the parking lot.

She must read the look on his face, because she reaches for his hand, holding it gently between both of hers. “Oh, baby. I wish I could have warned you.”

He lets out a uncharacteristically wet chuckle, “Funny, Mark said the same thing.”

“Well Mark is a good friend, then.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is. I was just,” he bites his lip mid sentence, “He just surprised me, is all. I knew he was in town but I guess I thought… I don’t know, I thought I would just avoid him until he left.”

His mother smiles, but her eyebrows are creased. “It would have been hard to avoid him for a whole summer, don’t you think?”

“Maybe… Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. He’s here and I can’t avoid him at all.”

His mom, ever the optimist, seizes this opportunity. “Well, maybe it’s a sign!” Jaebeom tilts his head, confused. “Think about it, this is the perfect opportunity to rekindle that friendship. I was talking with him,” Jaebeom sours, “and it seems like he’s grown up really well. I don’t want you to miss out on this chance, baby.” 

Jaebeom snorts derisively, slipping his hand out from between his mother’s. “I don’t think Jinyoung wants to be friends anymore.” _I don’t know if he ever did_ , the rude, cruel part of Jaebeom’s brain says, sucking all the bravado out of his chest. Jaebeom is generally fairly confident, and he’s had a lot of time to gain and nurture that confidence and turn himself into someone he likes and can be proud of. Jinyoung coming back just makes it harder for him to be that person. He doesn’t feel like someone he would like right now.

“I don’t know, Mom,” he sighs, a scared, trembling thing. “Sometimes I wonder if he ever liked me at all, you know?”

“Oh, Jaebeom,” his mother places a hand on his cheek, cradling his face, “I don’t think anyone could know you and not love you.”

It should feel trite, coming from his own mother, but instead Jaebeom just feels warm and cared for. It doesn’t clear away the stormy clouds of doubt in his mind, but it shines some light on the most important things: he’s living a life that he treasures, and the people in his life that he’s kept the closest to him love him (and they love him well). He doesn’t need to constantly long for the approval of some long-lost friend. He can find a way to be fine now, as he is.

His mother wiggles his face back and forth with the hold she has on his cheeks. “You deserve to be happy, honey. And you deserve to have people in your life that love you. I just want you to give Jinyoung a chance, okay? He’s changed a lot since you knew him, I think.” Jaebeom looks skeptical from his cheek prison. “Please, baby? For me?” Jaebeom has always had a difficult time denying his mother anything, so he nods.

He doesn’t really know what “giving him a chance” entails, but he can try. He’s got a solid personal base to build up from. His mom smiles at him and gives his face one more affectionate squeeze before pulling his head down to kiss his forehead once and then dropping her hands to her hips.

“You can do this, Jaebeom.”

“I can do this,” he parrots back weakly. 

She nods decisively and shuts the back door. “I’ll see you on Saturday for dinner, okay?” 

“Sounds good, mom.”

She climbs into the driver’s seat and rolls her window down to grab Jaebeom’s hand one more time and look into his eyes. “I love you, Jaebeom. You’re my whole world.”

Jaebeom snorts at how cheesy she is, but speaks through the lump in his throat to say, “I love you too, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day, and drive safe.”

“I will,” she withdraws her hand and peels out of the parking lot, leaving Jaebeom with watery eyes and an agreement to give Jinyoung a chance—something he never ever thought he’d have to do. He’s going to have to go back into the shop at some point, even though the thought of seeing Jinyoung after they’d both spoken to his mom gives him the heebie jeebies.

Jaebeom takes a breath and looks at the front entrance. He can see Jackson and Youngjae inside, chatting amiably with shopping moms and panicking sons. From the parking lot, he can see the big trees waving in the breeze over the chain link fence. His summer display—all yellows and purples—marks the happy outside entrance to the nursery. He made all this happen.

His mom is right. He doesn’t have to be so avoidant and scared; he can do this.

.

Clocking in the next day to sort out the mess that Mother’s Day had left behind isn’t necessarily fun because it’s ass o’clock in the morning, but the profits he counted out after closing yesterday are well worth all the trouble. 

Still. Six a.m. is _early_.

Finishing out yesterday went fine, honestly. He walked Jinyoung and Bambam through closing and everyone punched out before they rolled into overtime, so, all in all, pretty good. Maybe Jaebeom wasn’t quite ready to start the whole “giving Jinyoung a chance” thing, but they were civil and he didn’t hide in his office again, so he’ll take it as a win.

He’s going to try harder today, though. If for no other reason than because his mother’s reminder text about it has him nervous to disappoint. He’s going to have dinner with his parents again at the end of the week, and he’d really like to have something to show for it that he doesn’t have to lie about, because they’d see right through that anyway.

He’s pawned Bambam off to Youngjae for the day to propagate new herb sprouts. It’s Yugyeom’s day off, and Jaebeom can guarantee he won’t be up until at least noon. Mark and Jackson are on a landscaping call for today, so they likely won’t stop by for another couple of hours.

That leaves just Jinyoung, who Jaebeom has wisely scheduled with himself to work up front. It likely won’t be very busy today, but there’s just enough tech know-how to dispense to keep the both of them occupied without delving too deeply into anything personal. Can’t gossip when you’re busy (which is not true, as Jackson proves every day he’s on this Earth).

Jaebeom is dedicated to making it work, though. Even if it’s painful and it sucks and he wants, more than anything, to turn into an ostrich like an animorph and stick his head in the sand. 

He’s still got a couple of hours before he has to worry about much of anything and he’s going to make use of it by clouding his anxious mind with task-oriented thoughts and hoping for the best. He even made a list, although it mainly looks like: clean the flower bar (don’t think about Jinyoung), scrub the customer bathroom (do not think about Jinyoung), and sweep the store and the front of the greenhouses ( _shut up about Jinyoung_ ). 

Avoidance until the point of impact is key, he’s found, but he’ll have to see how that works out when he’s specifically agreed to _not_ avoid the impact.

.

Besides being too early, opening goes fine, and it’s actually pretty nice to work in the greenhouses before the morning cool has been replaced with the afternoon lobster pot. Jaebeom is feeling tastefully sweaty and mostly productive and ready to face whoever walks through the door first.

And it’s Jinyoung and Bambam.

He should have guessed it would be them; he also showed up religiously early for work when he first started.

He’s prepared this time, though. He won’t be caught off guard by Jinyoung, and he manifested a good day for himself by repetitively saying it during his morning shower. His two newbies are actually dressed appropriately in their own clothes, and they’re sheepishly holding their borrowed items in neat stacks in their arms. 

“Morning, guys.”

“Good morning!” they chorus back at him, Bambam’s voice squealing over Jinyoung’s baritone.

“I can go put those away while you punch in,” Jaebeom adds, and they hand over their bundles before leaving to do just that. The clothes are soft, and Jaebeom thinks Jinyoung probably washed them, judging by the fresh scent of his laundry detergent that he’s been using his whole life. Quite the creature of habit, but it’s not important, and it’s not going to mess up his day. He manifested it.

“Bam,” Jaebeom was mostly just being lazy, but Bambam looks pleased with the nickname, “I have you with Youngjae today—he’ll be in any second. And Jinyoung,” their gazes snap together, “you’re up here with me.” Jinyoung nods. 

Neither of them look away.

**Author's Note:**

> hello !! this is my first fic ever haha,,, it's been sitting in my drafts for a long time but i miss jjp a lot so im letting this particular bird fly the nest. i hope yall enjoy !!! you can always find me on twt at  cceedef  but it's brand new so it's pretty bare... i'll try to update semi regularly,, college is hard :( thank u for readingggggg :DDDDD


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